


Terpsichore

by NimueOfTheNorth



Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Ballet, Canon-Typical Violence, Case Fic, F/F, Romance, Stalking, dancer!emily
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-26
Updated: 2018-11-26
Packaged: 2019-08-29 21:35:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,289
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16751902
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NimueOfTheNorth/pseuds/NimueOfTheNorth
Summary: A case throws Alex back into a life she walked away from decades ago. What threatened to be a world of hurt turns out to be a chance to fall in love all over again. If only there wasn't a killer around.





	Terpsichore

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ArwenLalaith](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArwenLalaith/gifts).



> The moment I saw the three collages you'll find scattered throughout the story, my mind ran away with this bunny and I had a great time writing the story. Thanks to ArwenLalaith for the wonderful inspiration and the beautiful cover art she made for me as well! (More versions can be found here https://archiveofourown.org/works/16635416 )
> 
> While I am a hobby dancer, only very little of it is ballet. I tried my best to get things right in the story but you'll have to chalk up any misstep as creative license, please. I made up The District Ballet Company, but Kansas City Ballet, The Royal Ballet and The Royal Ballet School all do exist, though I have no knowledge of their inner workings (obviously) so I kept things fairly vague there.
> 
> While Emily's background is much more AU, I did make a few changes about Alex's past as well, including the Amerithrax mess never happening and her joining the BAU when Elle left.
> 
> Beta: Grammarly

 

The team was semi-busy with paperwork, but mostly they were keeping an eye out for Hotch to return from Strauss's office. He had been called there half an hour ago and all too often the results of such a visit were bad news. When he did show up, his stoic face was as difficult to read as ever, but at least there was no annoyed pinch around the corners of his mouth.

“Can I have everyone in the round table room in 15 minutes please,” he requested and vanished into his own office before anyone could ask a question.

After a quiet exchange of raised eyebrows and shrugged shoulders throughout the bullpen, everyone turned back to their current tasks. Alex figured she could get the evaluations of the latest bunch of recruits going through her class finished and still have time to get fresh coffee.

They all took their seats around the table within moments of each other, Hotch and Garcia entering last with Hotch getting straight to the point.

“Chief Strauss received a request for our assistance from MPD and wants us to take the case. I can’t say I disagree as this looks like it could use our attention.”

Garcia typed in a command on her laptop, and their tablets lit up with the case file as Hotch slipped a paper copy over to Reid. They all read over the summary, and when Alex looked up with a frown, she saw similar reactions on the faces on all her teammates.

“Not to sound callous,” Rossi voiced what they were all thinking, “but this only lists two victims.”

Hotch nodded at Garcia, and she grabbed her remote and got up.

"Right my lovelies, so far there are only two deaths, but those have enough cruelty and weirdness if you ask me. The first victim is Jesaiah Barber, 27, worked as a stage technician and lived with his fiancée. He was found 12 days ago, severely beaten with multiple stab wounds in an empty warehouse like this." Beside photos of the man's drivers license and him smiling at the camera with a pretty brunette in his arms, appeared one of him suspended by a large number of ropes in an odd position.

"Victim number two is Kathleen Meyers, 22, ballet dancer and single. She was found in much the same state in a different abandoned warehouse three days ago." The photos of the vibrant young woman were joined by one of her lifeless body suspended in mid-air. One arm was stretched out in front of her, the other arced over her head. She was leaning forwards from the hip, but the chest was upright. One leg pointed straight to the ground while the other was up at a perfect 90° angle to the back, bent at the knee.

(similar to this)

"The UnSub was very determined on this pose, given how much rope he used to get it," Morgan observed.

Reid cocked his head to one side. “It looks like one of those typical ballerina poses, doesn’t it?”

Alex's mouth had run dry at the picture of the first victim had come up. Because Reid was right, that was precisely what that pose was.

“It’s 4th attitude derrière - and en pointe. He actually bothered to stretch the foot all the way through and turned the raised leg out from the hip. That must have been much easier with Meyers’s flexible body than with Barber.” She’d said it before she had really thought about the implications and when she looked up from the enlarged picture on her tablet, all eyes were on her. She just shrugged uncomfortably and was glad when Garcia cleared her throat and continued to present the case.

"Right. Both the beatings and the stabbings were labelled overkill by the MEs, and the same type of knife was used. The wounds were too ragged and overlapping each other to say if it was the exact same weapon. Both victims disappeared late at night when they were supposed to come home and died that same night. Barber was found two days later when construction workers came to inspect the warehouse. Meyers was found the day following her disappearance by a man walking his dog when the dog started to react weirdly. There don't seem to be many connections between the two victims - aside from the obvious." She gestured at the pictures and retook her seat.

"The only other connection is a vague one through their work, but that's the reason both the MPD and the mayor asked Strauss to send us in before anything more happens," Hotch explained. "Meyers was a rather prominent member of The District Ballet Company, and her death will draw attention when it becomes public. We're lucky that it hasn't made the news yet. Barber worked at the theatre the Ballet usually performs at. They are preparing for the new season which starts in a few weeks. They already had their first rehearsals there, so the two might have even met in passing, but that's the one easy to see connection and you can all imagine what the media will make of it."

“So it’s in everybody’s best interest that the FBI be already called in when the public outcry starts,” JJ concluded.

“And if this really is somebody targeting the theatre scene in general or the ballet specifically, they’re unlikely to stop,” Morgan added. “Between the anger obvious in the assault and the precision taken with arranging the bodies, our UnSub is obsessed in some way and that won’t go away.”

Hotch nodded. “Agreed. Apart from the three death threshold, I don’t see a reason why we shouldn’t get involved in this case and so I told Strauss we’d take it. Let’s grab our things, meet up with the detectives and then go from there.”

As nobody had any objections, there was the usual shuffling about of everyone leaving the room while Hotch sorted his files in a neat stack.

Alex had stayed in her seat.

“Everything alright, Blake?”

“What? Oh yes, yes, it’s nothing. It’s just…”

"What? You were awfully quiet after channelling Reid about the position of the victims," he teased with a little half-smile. "Is there anything that rattles you about this case? We all have them and you know it's better to keep a healthy distance than to freeze in the wrong moment."

“It’s nothing that bad but… to be honest, I’d rather not get too close to anything ballet if it can be avoided. There’s a wound there that never really healed.”

She understood why the inspecting stare of those dark eyes made many a suspect want to talk, but she could take it. This was her private business, and she had no interest in sharing it.

“It’s fine, Hotch. I’m fine. I promise. It won’t affect my work if you have to put me out there, I’d just rather keep my distance from the company if possible.”

After a few more moments he nodded and got up. “I can work with that. But you’ll tell me if anything changes?”

Happy with her reassuring nod, he left the room to grab what he'd need from his office, and she did the same at her desk. At least a local case meant that they'd all be sleeping in their own beds.

 

* * *

 

 

The team had split up to gather their own impressions, and Blake had ended up with Reid at the dump site of the second victim. They slowly walked the large open building before exploring the smaller side wing but didn't find anything new. The CSU had done a thorough job.

They returned to the centre where Meyers had been arranged, and Reid looked up at the dirty skylights above them.

“It’s very overcast today, but if the sun was shining, she must have looked almost like under a spotlight.”

“You could be right.” Alex walked a little bit back towards the main entrance and pulled up a wide shot of the scene on her tablet, holding it up to mimic how it would have looked the morning the victim was found. When she lowered her tablet, Reid stood there in a terribly clumsy imitation of the pose.

“Something like this?”

Alex couldn’t contain her laughter. “Not really. You better stick to your current career.”

He pouted for a moment but then joined her to look at the picture. “It does look staged in more than one sense of the word.”

"Yes, it does. Not the final curtain she was dreaming off." Her voice sounded wistful, and Reid looked at her with concern.

“Everything alright with you? You seem a little off around this case.”

“I’m fine, Reid.”

"You were there for me when I was pretending to be fine, and I hope you know that I'm here for you too if you need someone to talk to."

The look in his too earnest eyes told her that she couldn’t brush his concern off as easily as with Hotch. She’d have to give him at least a little bit to alleviate his worries. “Thank you, Spencer, I appreciate the offer. But it really is okay. Just memories from a former life colliding with the present. Nothing to worry about.” She held his gaze for a long moment to let her words sink in before turning back to the crime scene photo. “Now, what does it tell us that he seems to go after theatre people with an awful lot of rage but then arranges their bodies in such an elaborate and theatrical way? It seems contradictory.”

"We have too little to make any viable assumptions about his motive or trigger, but you're right, and it's a good indicator that theatre or dance aren't the actual objects of his hate."

 

 

They spent the next two days interviewing friends, families and possible witnesses and true to his word, Hotch only assigned Alex to those not directly connected to ballet. When they uncovered nothing new that helped them narrow down a profile, they decided to spend the third day at the ballet company and theatre, talking to as many people as they could to try and shake loose the seemingly insignificant details the victims' colleagues might have noticed.

Alex stayed at the police station, going over all the reports and statements they had already collected. Sometimes it took one person who looked through everything to catch the tiny common thread. But as the afternoon grew late, she still hadn’t come across anything that could help them.

“Agent Blake?”

She’d left the door to the office they’d been given open and as she looked up following the light knock on the frame, found the desk sergeant standing there with a file in her hand.

“Sergeant O’Brien, what can I do for you?”

"I actually think I might have something for you," the woman said and stepped into the room proper. "A few weeks ago I was working the night shift because we were short on staff with that flu wave going around. We got a call about the assault of a young woman who ended up in hospital. Captain is very determined that there always be a female officer present when we interview female victims, and we all got an extra seminar to help them feel comfortable enough to really open up. Took the male detectives a little to step aside when needed but it is showing results now. Anyway, as I said, we were short on staff, and I was the only woman on hand, so I joined the detective.

"Poor girl had stayed late to correct a mistake at her new job and got assaulted in an alley. Badly beaten, minor wounds from a knife, scared the shit out of her. She couldn't give us much on her assailant, and we have no leads so far, I checked. The reason your case made me think of it is that that new job was in accounting for The District Ballet Company."

She pushed the file over the table, and Alex opened it to take a look at the photos of her wounds.

"Between the similarities of the attack and the connection to the company, this might have been done by our UnSub." She checked the date of the assault. " The violence isn't as extreme as we've seen in our murder victims but this predates the first murder by more than two weeks, and escalation is a pattern we see in many cases. Thank you, Sergeant, I'll take a closer look at this and see if it fits into the bigger picture."

The sergeant just gave her a curt nod and returned to her duties, a reaction that didn't surprise Alex at all as she'd witnessed the no-nonsense attitude with which the woman held a lid on the usual madness that was a police station. Forced to guess, she'd say that Sergeant O'Brien likely had raised more than one kid and had heard every desperate excuse in the book.

By the time the rest of the team returned, she’d read the file cover to cover and added all the details to their board.

“Looks like you’ve found us new information to work with,” Morgan commented as he looked the new connections over.

“More like the desk sergeant was paying attention and found us a likely first victim, only that Fabiola Araujo was lucky enough to survive.” She waited for a moment while everyone looked at everything she’d already added. “Most interestingly, one of the few details she recalled about her attacker was that he kept saying ‘You don’t understand her worth. You don’t deserve her brilliance. None of you appreciate her.’ So we’re likely looking at someone obsessed with a woman that our victims might have slighted in his perception.”

“What was that mistake she stayed late to correct?” Hotch asked and tipped that particular note.

"She'd been thrown in on the deep end taking care of everybody's salaries. Another colleague was supposed to check her work, but with too many people being down with the flu, it got overlooked. She hadn't accounted for the different levels of pay the dancers get depending on their position in the company, and the soloists and principals only got the base salary the corps members get. She could have finished fixing it the next day, nobody was mad or demanded she work overtime to rectify it, that was her decision."

“So if this all belongs together as we think it does, our UnSub is fixated on a female principal or soloist in The District Ballet Company. That narrows it down to what? Half a dozen?” JJ asked.

“Eight, actually,” Reid piped up. “The company currently has three female principals and five soloists and the same with male dancers.”

“Right. Anyone learned anything that might narrow that down?”

"When prodded about the day Barber went missing, the stage manager took a closer look at the calendar," Morgan started. "Turns out that very day the company did a complete run-through for a new ballet they're working on. They have the stage technicians do all the backgrounds and props to make sure nothing interferes anywhere. Good thing too because when one dancer had to dash from one side of the stage around the back to the other side, she literally ran into Barber moving a piece of stage furniture. She stumbled into some scaffolding, he helped her back up and on she went, not quite on time for her entry, but that's the worst of it. They added a note to keep that path clear during that section of the performance, and that's exactly what the whole process is for."

“Do you have the dancer’s name?” Hotch asked.

“Emily Prentiss.”

"Oh, that name popped up in my searches," Garcia interjected from Morgan's laptop. "She's one of the principal dancers, often called a prima ballerina by the press, no matter how often she tells them in interviews that the term doesn't apply because the company has no hierarchy between the various principals. Guess I'm not the only one who thought that's what you called a very good dancer. Anyway, when I was looking through press reports about our second victim, her name popped up a lot. There was speculation that Kathleen Meyers had some epic rivalry with Prentiss and was aiming to push her off her throne. Meyers became a soloist very quickly and was a hot candidate to be made principal next season. She and Prentiss often danced the same role and Prentiss is already 36, which is apparently considered past her zenith in ballet circles, though the reviews of her performances don't read like it."

Hotch spoke up next. “We heard about that supposed rivalry around the company. From all accounts, it’s something the press made up to generate artificial drama and interest for the audience. Everybody we talked to agreed that the two women weren’t particularly close friends but got on very well as colleagues. Prentiss supported Meyers in learning new roles they shared as she had time and they each had a lot of respect for the other’s skills.”

"I asked the company director about the replacement rumours," JJ added. "According to him, it is considered supremely bad form for a company to fire a principal for anything less than severe reasons. They can get limited contracts for a season or two to cover maternity leave for example, but a regular cast principal contract normally lasts till retirement. He said dancers know very well when they can't keep up with the demands of the stage any longer and either part with the company amicably or move into another role within the company.

“There’s also no limit on how many principals the company can have as long as they can afford the salary. Promoting Meyers was in consideration because the company is doing well and they plan to further expand their repertoire so they would need one or two more for either next season or the one after. Prentiss’s position would have been in no way affected.”

“Prentiss looks to be our best bet at a truly connecting factor between the three victims though. Because I agree with Blake that the attack on Araujo was likely his first.” Rossi said from where he was perusing the newly added file. “Beyond the obvious connection to the company, her wounds read like a lighter version of what our murder victims suffered. It’s the same level of rage. He inflicted a few superficial cuts on her and then stopped and ran after the first real stab. Could be that the amount of blood that caused shocked him and scared him off on his first victim. He clearly got used to it by the time he attacked Barber.”

“Which leaves us with the contradiction that what could be construed as slights Araujo and Barber delivered towards Prentiss was very much insider knowledge whereas the rivalry with Meyers only existed in public opinion and wouldn’t be a good motivation for an insider,” Hotch pondered.

"That depends on our UnSub," Morgan countered. "If we're right about his motivation being an obsession with Prentiss, then I'd say it's very likely that he is a stalker, but integrated into the periphery of her life well enough not to draw attention. We know that stalkers misconstrue their experience of reality and with those rumours showing up in the press, again and again, they could have easily become a real threat to her career in his mind. I'd be focusing on people within and associated with the company."

Agreeing nods went around the team, and Hotch retook the reins.

"Okay, we have a plausible profile based on the information we have. Let's ask Miss Prentiss to come here to talk to us tomorrow, and I'd like the company director, Stevenson, here as well."

Alex closed her eyes for a moment. She knew that Ralph had become the company director a few years back, she’d read all about it in the papers. She’d just hoped she could keep her past at bay during this case despite it all.

Hotch seemingly hadn't noticed her reaction and continued on. "If neither can point us towards a possible suspect, we need to come up with a plan to both find him and protect Prentiss. With his level of aggression, it's only a matter of time until it gets directed at her one way or the other. Do we know if she's in a relationship?"

"Not as far as the yellow press is concerned," Garcia had to offer. "She was dating a fellow dancer until about two years ago, but then she moved back home to Russia. Nothing about any bad blood, just two women intent on their careers making a practical decision. And before you ask, no men to be found in her love life at all from what I can see."

“Now, won’t that go over well with a stalker,” Rossi voiced what they all thought.

 

* * *

 

 

Alex was honestly tempted to come up with an excuse to head into Quantico the next morning rather than joining the others at the police station. But then she looked in the mirror, called herself an idiot for giving the past that much power, and grabbed her things before she could change her mind again.

Her first thought when Emily Prentiss walked into the little conference room they were using was that the woman was stunningly beautiful.

She didn’t have the ethereal beauty classically associated with ballet dancers. Prentiss looked more solid and grounded and the denim skirt and cardigan she was wearing did little to hide her athleticism.

Ralph pulled out a chair for her which she accepted graciously, but with an amused smile, that instantly reminded Alex of her own reaction to Ralph's old-fashioned kind of chivalry decades earlier. The man apparently hadn't changed. Prentiss let her gaze wander over the faces of the whole team once but lingered on Alex's for a moment, looking like she was puzzling over something.

"Thank you both for coming here today," Hotch opened the conversation and drew Prentiss's attention his way. "We have uncovered some new information, and I'm sorry to say that the UnSub responsible for the deaths of Jesaiah Barber and Kathleen Meyers seems to be in some way obsessed with you, Miss Prentiss."

Prentiss's breath stalled for a moment, and her eyes grew a little larger in shock, but she otherwise kept her composure better than Stevenson, who had slapped a hand in front of his open mouth.

“You’re taking this much calmer than I would have expected, Miss Prentiss,” JJ observed.

"I assume you have never met my mother. You don't grow up the daughter of Ambassador Prentiss and let your emotions run wild, Agent Jareau. You had already told us two days ago that there was probably a serial killer targeting the theatre scene, which has all of us quite worried. This revelation only adds to that in a minor way, and I'd rather hear more details and your assessment of the situation before forming a conclusion."

Alex’s ear latched on to the lovely if subtle British accent in Prentiss’s cultured voice. She’d done a little bit of reading on the woman the evening before and knew she’d been educated at the Royal Ballet School and then danced in London before returning to the States. The accent she’d picked up during that time suited her.

“The evidence we have is at this point circumstantial,” Hotch explained. “Were you aware that a newly hired accountant of your company was brutally assaulted a few weeks ago?”

“No.” Ralph was shaking his head still looking shocked. “I’m not all that involved in the minutiae of the business side. I try to avoid it beyond the general questions of budgets and audience numbers, to be honest. I only care for these things as far as they impact the creative process. Is she doing alright?”

“We haven’t spoken to her directly yet but the doctor’s report included in the file predicts a full recovery.”

"I'm glad to hear that and what happened to this woman is terrible, but how does it connect any of this to me? I can imagine more than one possible connection between Kathleen and me, but the other two?" Prentiss asked confused.

After Hotch laid out their reasoning for why they thought her to be the connecting factor, she sat there in stunned silence for a while. Ralph was turned towards her, obviously waiting to take his cue from her.

"That's… It's all terribly plausible and absolutely horrifying. If you're right, then this man is absolutely nuts. How can a person get this absurdly obsessed with someone?"

"We're looking at this UnSub as a stalker. He might not necessarily imagine himself in a romantic relationship with you at this point, but he certainly has a skewed perception about how he sees you compared to how the rest of the world does," Morgan explained. "I'm sorry if that is not at all reassuring."

“I’d rather know the truth than be coddled,” Prentiss answered with a grim resolve that impressed Alex.

"What are you going to do about it?" Ralph asked. "It doesn't sound as if you are any closer to knowing who is responsible."

Hotch turned towards Prentiss. “We were hoping that you might have noticed someone who shows a little too much interest or tries to insert himself into your surroundings. Our own instincts are often the best tools in these situations.”

“No, nobody comes to mind. Are you sure it’s a man? I’m not sure how much you’ve looked into my life, but I’ve hardly kept it a secret where my sexual preferences lie.”

“We’re aware,” Hotch said with a wry smile. “Our technical analyst never hesitates to include the yellow press when they can offer some insight. And everything speaks for a male UnSub, the level and form of physical violence as well as the strength required for the way he displayed his victims are strong indicators of that. And it is typical for stalkers to ignore the reality of who the object of their obsession is and how they feel.”

Prentiss just nodded in understanding. "So what are you planning on doing next? And please don't tell me we have to wait for his next move because as much as that might be the reality of your job, I can't just wait for another body to turn up."When that earned her a round of raised eyebrows from the team, she smiled a little sheepishly. "I've read all of Agent Rossi's books. True crime is a guilty pleasure of mine."

Rossi let out a snort of laughter, and Hotch cleared his throat to get things back on track.

"We always try to avoid that. Normally, I would suggest placing one of us undercover within the company, as close to you as possible. A trained eye to observe the people around you, especially the ones in the background that you wouldn't normally pay much attention to. The problem is that we've already spoken to too many members of the company not to draw attention to us and none of us has the know-how to convincingly take on a believable role."

“What about Alex?” Ralph asked innocently.

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She knew that when she opened them again, the whole team would be staring at her.

“Blake?” Hotch asked with that carefully neutral tone of his.

She slowly breathed out and looked him straight in the eye, neither flinching nor apologising.

“Oh. Was that supposed to be a secret?” she could hear the worry in Stevenson’s voice.

“It’s fine, Ralph.” She really didn’t need to drown in flowers and _I’m sorry_ cards.

"Oh my god," Prentiss whispered surprised, and Alex looked her way. "Of course! That's how I know your face. I knew I'd seen you before but couldn't place you. I watched all the video material of you that I could get a hold of after Ralph told us that your interpretation of Odile was part of the inspiration for his new version."

"You're rehearsing Swan Lake?" Alex could hear the excitement in her own voice, and she hated the traitorous thing a little.

"Sort of. It's a completely new take on the material." Stevenson explained eagerly. "Remember all those discussions we had about the plot holes? I went from there, and the result is _Lake of Swans_ , with Odile and Odette being sisters, both caught in Rothbart’s curse and trying to work against him together. Having two different dancers for the roles opens up a lot of new possibilities.”

Rossi cleared his throat to interrupt him. "That is all very fascinating, but it doesn't tell us what our dear colleague hasn't told us about herself." He turned his gaze on Alex, and she knew she could no longer avoid it.

"Before I turned to linguistics and was subsequently recruited by the FBI, I had the rather promising beginnings of a career as a ballet dancer at Kansas City Ballet. Ralph and I danced there together. I injured my foot, and the doctors told me that while it was fine for regular use, it wouldn't hold up to the stresses of professional dancing anymore. So I went to college and picked a different career instead."

"It was a loss for us as much as for you, love," Ralph said quietly, and Alex realised for the first time that she hadn't just walked away from ballet, but also from a number of dear friends.

"You asked me to keep your distance during this case, Blake. You are our best chance to get eyes inside the company, but I will not order you to do this if you tell me you can't."

Hotch held her gaze steadily, and she knew he meant every word, he'd respect her decision no questions asked. He wouldn't allow anyone to give her grief about it either. And it didn't solve her dilemma of who would win out - the seasoned FBI agent who wanted to catch a killer by any means or the young woman who'd had all her dreams ripped away from her with one diagnosis.

“How would we do this? What role would I take on?”

"Well," Stevenson pondered for a moment. "I'm short one répétiteur because Michaela had to go home last week to care for her parents while her father recovers from an accident. Nobody would doubt me for bringing in the wonderful Alexandra Miller to fill that spot for a while. Michaela was our main répétiteur for Odette and Odile so you'd be actually doing me a favour. We're also prepping for Nutcracker, and there isn't a divertissement you haven’t danced so that could get you in contact with the rest of the company more.”

Alex just sat there and let the thought sink in. Swan Lake and Nutcracker were things she could absolutely do, even after all those years, Ralph was right about that. It would give them the inside view they needed to catch their UnSub and hopefully prevent any more deaths. And danger to Emily Prentiss.

The younger woman was sitting across the table and looking at her expectantly. And if Alex wasn’t very much mistaken, that was less the hope for protection and more excitement about the possibility of working with her in the studio. It was a heady feeling she hadn’t thought she’d missed.

“What are you dancing in Nutcracker, Sugar Plum Fairy?”

“No that is… was Kathleen’s part. And her understudy, Miyako, will step up now, she’s worked very hard for it already. I’m very happy to do the Spanish Dance this year.”

“I always loved that part as well.” She let the words hang in the air for a moment before she committed to what she already knew she would do; then she turned to Ralph. “Looks like you got yourself a new répétiteur.”

 

* * *

 

 

Alex had gone home to change clothes before she’d meet Ralph at the company around lunch time. That also gave Garcia some time to set up an online identity that matched her cover story, just in case somebody got curious. They’d settled for something very close to the truth as it was the easiest and least likely to fall apart. All she’d had to do was call Georgetown and have them agree to Garcia changing Alex’s bio on their webpage, switching it to her maiden name, listing her as being on a sabbatical, and deleting all references to her career in the FBI. If nobody knew to google Alex Blake instead, nobody would find any mentioning of it in the media.

Now, she needed to get into the right mindset for the next few days. She shed her clothes that belonged to SSA Blake and stood in front of her closet, trying to decide what Alexandra Miller would wear for her return to a dance studio.

It didn't have to be outright dance clothes, probably shouldn't be. She'd famously walked away from everything ballet more than two decades ago so nobody would expect her to own a collection of leotards.

Eventually, she settled on a simple jersey wrap dress with tights and a vest underneath. It was comfortable and allowed her a full range of movement but looked much more feminine and elegant than she’d ever wear as an agent. She reached for comfortable Mary Janes to complete the look and packed a bag with a few things she thought she might need.

She looked herself over in the mirror and made an effort to change her demeanour away from stern professor and tough agent, but that left her mostly uncertain. Resolving to play it by ear, she tucked her gun and credentials safely away in a corner of her bag and headed towards the company.

 

* * *

 

 

Ralph came to pick her up from the receptionist. He greeted her effusively and played up their old friendship for everyone around them to hear, which were a considerable number of people passing by on their way to grab lunch. It was a good thing that the man always had a hang towards the theatrical, and while drawing attention, nobody batted an eye at his antics.

"Come on through to my office, and I give you a bit of an idea what you're going to work with. Once everyone is back from lunch, I'll introduce you."

What sounded promising and helpful proved to be mostly Ralph handing her a copy of all his notes about his new production and sending her off to grow acquainted with the choreography. At least he pointed her in the rough direction of what was called the lounge and had comfortable chairs, coffee and tea to offer.

They had gone through the same school, had been influenced by the same teachers, so it didn't take her too long to make sense of the creative chaos of his note-taking, and the more she read and imagined the steps to go with the music, the more enthralled by his vision she became. He'd kept all the original score, but the reinterpretation of the story and characters brought a lot of changes to the choreography, most intriguingly shared scenes for Odette and Odile, the white and black swan. The emotional intensity Ralph wanted to get out of the two women was heart wrenching even just on paper, and she was looking forward to helping the dancers to portray it. But he had also kept some of the more iconic elements from the classical choreography, which she fully agreed with. What would be any interpretation of Swan Lake without the spectacular 32 fouettés?

When Ralph came to accompany her to her first rehearsal, she had lost track of time and had multiple pages of her own notes about the ballet. She was grateful that it was just her with the two swans for the afternoon and that Prentiss managed to pretend convincingly that they had never met before. That Sandra Rademacher, who danced the white swan was a little distracted by her own excitement about getting to work with Ralph’s inspiration for her part helped as well.

“Okay, ladies, I’ve read Ralph’s ideas for your characters but to get a better feeling for the work you’ve already done, I would like to see what’s your take on it. Each of you pick a scene where you feel the most at home in your character and then afterwards I’d like to see you together in the Meeting At Dawn pas de deux. Show me what you’ve got.” Alex made herself at home on the chair that stood centre in front of the mirror to allow her the best view while Emily and Sandra told the pianist which music they wanted and decided who would go first.

Sandra picked the Odette Solo to dance, and Alex got the impression that she was still focusing a bit too much on the technique and trying to appear like a swan and hadn't quite found her way of expressing the anguish of a trapped and cursed woman. But that was what these rehearsals were for, and it gave her a good starting point.

Meanwhile, Emily picked a solo that would normally be Odile’s attempt to seduce Prince Siegfried but in this production was her fighting against Rothbart’s magical hold over her, trying to warn the Prince without alerting Rothbart. Her portrayal of the inner turmoil, desperation and tenacity filled the whole room and almost took Alex’s breath away.

The shared scene was, of course, a completely new addition to the production that Alex had never seen or danced. She noticed how Sandra seemed to take her cues from Emily and found it easier to be emotionally expressive when responding to somebody else and was glad that the women showed a beautiful and intense chemistry while dancing together. She just had to remind herself every so often that she couldn't just pay attention to Emily all the time.

The rest of their rehearsal time flew by with discussions about the interpretations, ideas for which mannerisms the two could share to illustrate that they were related and how to create their own accents each. Alex let the two experiment and bounce ideas and every so often threw in her own two pence.

The creative energy of the dancers combined with the music flowed around Alex and threatened to pull her along. More than once she had to hold herself back from showing them a movement or step. She couldn’t afford to slip back into those old habits.

When their time was over, Alex took half an hour to make some more specific notes about what she wanted to work on with each of the women before she snuck into Emily’s next rehearsal for a modern piece that was a celebration of the human body and its movement.

Alex let herself enjoy the vastly different style and focused mostly on Emily, while still keeping an eye out for those who looked in through the glass door and whether or not anyone took too much of an interest.

Back at home, she found herself humming Tchaikovsky's music and almost dancing around her kitchen as she made dinner. She’d have to keep that in check if she wanted to keep her distance from ballet.

 

 

The habits of an agent had her up way too early for the dance world the next morning. Even though there wouldn’t be a lot going on before the company class at 9:30 am, she headed there around eight to take a look at the schedule for Nutcracker. She figured it would also be a good opportunity to observe some of the support staff that were less visible during the day.

As she walked up to the boards that held the daily, weekly and monthly schedules, she saw a man in his late twenties who she remembered from the day before. He’d been sitting at the desk for Ralph’s assistant when she’d been sent off with all his notes and was meticulously pinning new lists to the boards but looked up when he noticed her.

"Good morning, Miss Miller." His smile felt a little too bright, but that wasn't unusual among people whose job included a specific brand of professional politeness. "Mr Stevenson asked me to put together a schedule with all the rehearsals he'd like you to supervise or take part in. Here." He pulled three full pages stapled together out of a folder. "I'm afraid you'll still have to check the daily schedule every morning. Things get switched up and pushed around for all sorts of reasons so there could always be changes, but with this list, you at least know what you're looking for."

She flipped through the pages and frowned a little at how readily Ralph put her to work. But then again, the man had always made to most out of anything at his disposal. “This is very helpful, thank you. I’m sorry, I don’t think we were introduced yesterday.”

"Oh, sorry. I'm Victor. I keep track of all the nitty-gritty details for Mr Stevenson so if you need anything, don't hesitate to ask. If I can't help you directly, I'll usually know who can."

“Every company needs somebody like that. Thanks again.” She headed off for more coffee to brace herself for the full day ahead.

She joined the morning class at Ralph's request, and he officially introduced her to the whole company, even though word of mouth had done its job as efficiently as ever and most people had already heard about their new interim répétiteur. Now they all could put a face to her name.

Alex took the opportunity to get a good impression of the company as a whole while the ballet master put them through their paces.

As the season hadn't begun yet, the dancers hadn't had any late performances the night before, and so there was only a minimum of overly tired faces. Everyone seemed focused on their technique and preparing their body for the work ahead, but they were also relaxed and clearly comfortable with one another. And while the ballet master had the no-nonsense attitude so useful for his job, he also exchanged light banter with some company members and kindly enquired about one dancer's recovery from a minor injury, and another's newborn baby.

It was good to see that he clearly wasn’t perceived as a strict taskmaster but well-respected by everyone all the same as Alex had experienced different situations herself and knew how it could affect company morale.

It wasn't until after lunch that she was needed in a large meeting to talk through The Nutcracker. The company worked with one of the local ballet schools to include their more advanced children's classes into the performance, and this was the first chance for professionals and youngsters to come together.

“Okay, everyone, _attention, s’il vous plaît_!” Éloi Lefebvre clapped his hands a few times and earned a few giggles from the kids when he put on the French extra thick. Alex had noticed already during morning class that the man liked to play with how much accent he let bleed through in his English. Between the prominent French influence in ballet and the overall attitude the French had about their language and culture, she figured it was a quirk he just didn’t want to let go, no matter how long he’d been living in the US.

"All the dancers know which parts they are dancing already, but before we can get properly started, we need to assign the répétiteurs and ballet masters and mistresses to the various groups. Seeing as we have a guest among us for the next few weeks, I think it is the polite thing to do to let her choose first. Miss Miller?"

“I always liked the chocolates the best.” Not only would that put Emily into her rehearsal group, it was also absolutely true.

“ _Chocolat pour madame,_ very well. All the chocolates go say hello to Miss Miller.” He waved at the children and a bunch of them hurried over to greet her, followed by the adult dancers at a more sedated pace.

The rest of the enormous group was split up quickly and efficiently and after a few general words about rehearsal schedule, costumes and expectations, they all went off to start on the actual work.

Alex felt swept up in the bustle of a company preparing for the new season, and the excitement of the kids only made it worse. She had to check herself every so often not to lose track of her primary purpose for being there.

Watching Emily in the more lively Spanish dance and seeing the pure joy of dancing it gave her, didn’t help Alex’s level of distraction at all. The two women also worked well together in getting the children put more at ease in their new environment so that they could show off what they’d learned already.

What Alex had feared the most about returning to the world of ballet was feeling disconnected and like a stranger. Now she was almost scared by how at home she felt.

She was checking that everything had made it back into her bag at the end of the day when Emily stuck her head through the door of the studio.

“Hey Alex, a few of us want to go and test out the new Indian restaurant two blocks over for dinner. Do you want to join us?”

She was about to decline when she turned around but then changed her mind. She couldn't exactly put her finger on it, but she thought there was a glimmer of interest in Emily's eyes that she couldn't resist, even if it were just wishful thinking.

“You know what, why not? Indian sounds much better than cooking for lonesome old me. Working with the kids was fun, but exhausting.” She was rewarded with a brilliant smile in response.

“Great. We’re meeting at the entrance, whenever you’re ready.”

“I’ll be just a minute,” she said gesturing at her things. When the door had closed behind Emily, Alex fired off a quick text message to Hotch as her check-in. She still hadn’t observed anything that would give them new insights but telling him now, rather than later meant her boss would get a chance to set the case aside for the evening and spend some time with his own kid.

Downstairs, Alex found herself part of what looked very much like a ladies night. Waiting with Emily were Sandra, Miyako and two younger dancers from the corps Alex had only seen during class so far.

They headed out the door, and the short walk was filled with chatter and laughter as they left the work behind for the day.

“So, Miss Alexandra Miller,” Sandra turned to Alex after they’d placed their orders. “It’s no big secret that you walked away from ballet more than twenty years ago. What have you been doing since and what makes you get back to it now, after all this time?” What could have been a challenging question was asked only with curiosity, so Alex didn’t mind, even if she could only tell the partial truth that served as her cover.

“I became a linguist and am teaching at GWU. After a few very busy semesters where I had to fill in for sick colleagues, I took a sabbatical to recharge and was just working on some ideas for new research projects. Ralph knew I lived here and when he needed someone to fill in for Michaela on short notice, he called me and begged until I caved. It helped that he had two Tchaikovsky ballets to lure me with as he well knows that they were always my favourites.”

“You two were at Kansas City Ballet together, that’s how you know each other, right?” Emily asked a question she already knew the answer to. “What was he like as a young up and coming dancer?”

Alex couldn’t hold back the smile at the glint in Emily’s eyes even if she’d wanted to.

"Oh, young Ralph. His technique was - I can't say terrible, he wouldn't have made it as far as he did if that was the case. But he certainly wasn't the most technical dancer, and it showed most in classical choreographies. But his musicality and the way he interpreted roles and music was already breathtaking back then. He had this intensity and presence about him when he danced and an instinctual understanding of how to arrange movement on stage. I don't believe any of us were surprised when he chose to become a choreographer."

“Was he as much creative chaos back then as well?” Miyako asked.

"Oh, absolutely! He forgot his shoes at least once a month, and when we saw him standing in front of the rehearsal schedule, somebody would always mention the date while walking by because he never ever knew what day it was."

They all broke out into laughter.

“Nothing much has changed then,” Emily got out. “I guess it’s true what they say about men. They never grow up, they just get bigger.”

“We can all be thankful that he has Victor to keep track of everything for him.”

Their conversation meandered through various topics throughout the meal and Alex had to admit that she hadn’t enjoyed herself this much in a long time. If only she didn’t have to remind herself all the time that Emily was just being nice and not actually flirting with her, it would be even easier.

They left the restaurant a couple of hours later in a good mood and said their goodnights.

“How is everybody getting home?” Alex wanted to know, taking a look at the time.

“The four of us share a large apartment just around the corner. Totally lucked out there,” Sandra explained. “The only one who chose to live farther away from the company is Emily.”

“Yeah, I’ll catch the metro.”

“Where do you live? Maybe I can drop you off.”

Turned out that Emily did indeed live in Alex’s direction and it was just a minor detour to get to her house.

“Nice place. It looks very comfortable.”

“Yes, I really like it. I spent enough time in dorms, shared flats, and tiny apartments. When I’d settled in here, I decided it was time for my own place with a bit more privacy and a small garden. Having room for my own little dance studio is just an added plus.”

“Yeah, I can imagine that.”

 

* * *

 

 

It was three days later, and Alex walked out of another rehearsal of Emily's where she'd pretended to sit in the back and work on her notes. She'd honestly tried doing just that but watching the younger woman dance was becoming more and more captivating and distracting every day.

The choreographies she was involved in were coming along nicely, but she hadn't observed anything yet that gave them any pointers towards their UnSub.

Turning a corner, she saw Pauline, one of the girls from the other night, drop a piece of paper into a basket with a frown on her face.

“Everything alright?”

“Yeah, it’s nothing, just one of those strange notes.”

“What notes?” Something about this put Alex’s hackles up.

"For a while now, there're little notes showing up randomly where people will find them. Taped to locker doors, dropped into bags, stuffed into the pockets of jackets, that sort of places. Everybody seems to get them, and somebody suggested we collect them. It started out with a mason jar, but that got full, so this basket was put in its place." She shrugged as she pointed at the well-filled basket one might display fruits in on a countertop.

“Can’t be nice notes judging by your expression.”

"No. They are weird, and none of us can figure out what they're supposed to mean exactly. Here." She fished out the note she'd just dropped in and handed it to Alex.

_You’re barely worthy to be her backdrop._

“Not exactly a ringing endorsement.” Alex frowned at the computer written note.

“No, but it’s hardly the worst any of us has gotten. I’m a corps member, being the backdrop is pretty much my job a lot of the time. If anyone has had an idea what this is about, I haven’t heard about it.” She glanced at the clock on the wall. “Sorry, I need to get to my physio appointment.”

Alex just nodded and put the note back into the basket. This was an oddity that might be worth a closer look.

She had a break before her next rehearsal, so she headed outside to get herself some coffee. Emily had pointed out a coffee cart that came by every afternoon and offered some excellent specialities. Bundled up against the wind, she treated herself to a caramel latte and found a corner that caught the dwindling sunlight to call Hotch.

_“Hotchner. Everything going okay, Blake?”_

Alex had to smile hearing her actual name after days of being called Miss Miller by the Nutcracker kids.

"Yes, things are going well. Nobody stands out to me so far, but I just came across something that might be worth a closer look."

_“At this point, I’m grateful for any additional information especially if it doesn’t come from another dead body.”_

“Apparently, most of the company has been receiving what sounds like bullying notes for a while now. I only read one because I didn’t want to show too much interest but they’ve been collecting the majority in a basket in the corridor.”

_“You think our UnSub is leaving these notes?”_

“The note I read mentioned a _her_ and the language would fit in with a stalker or some other abnormal behaviours. It would be an unusual coincidence if the company were plagued by two such people without any connection. I think it's worth a closer a look especially as we don't have much else right now."

_"I agree. I'll call Stevenson and see about getting those notes, and then Reid can have a go at them. Maybe he can call you in the evening to discuss his findings."_

“That sounds good. I need to go back inside, I’d like to not be frozen stiff for my next rehearsal.”

On her way back inside she saw the usual small group of dancers and employees crowded around the coffee cart, getting themselves a pick me up for the rest of the day, with Emily at the front of the line. Alex was tempted to wait for her but told herself off for being silly and kept walking towards the door.

Suddenly, there were yells and indignant outcries behind her, and when she whipped around, she just about saw a bike courier vanish into traffic at breakneck speed. The barista had stumbled forward, and Emily's coffee was spilt all over her front.

“Can’t you watch what you’re doing? Look what you’ve done!” Alex heard Victor Cowden berate the poor barista as she came closer.

"Let it be, Victor," Emily tried to calm him. "I'm fine, and it's not Ken's fault that hooligan had a lot more speed than spacial awareness. Are you hurt, Ken?"

"No. He merely brushed me. I was just so startled. I'm so sorry I spilt coffee all over you!" The young man offered Emily napkins to at least dry her hands.

"If she's got scaldings due to your clumsiness, your bosses will hear from us! Do you have any idea how even the slightest strain on her body can affect a ballerina's performance?"

“How about we not assume the worst?” Alex intervened before Victor could become even more enraged. “Emily said she was fine and doesn’t feel any pain, so there shouldn’t be any reason for worry. That mostly leaves her clothes and her lack of coffee.” She hoped that a touch of humour would help diffuse the tension.

“Oh, the company will cover the bills to have your clothes cleaned or replaced if necessary,” Ken was quick to assure. “And I’ll make you a fresh coffee, just a moment.”

“See? Everything sorted.” Alex turned to Victor and was truly surprised by the amount of anger the usually so agreeable man was still displaying. He harrumphed and stomped off without looking back.

“I’ve never seen him with such seriously twisted knickers,” somebody in the group murmured and made a few people snort with surprised laughter.

Emily received her coffee with a smile and reassured Ken again that there was nothing to worry about and the sweats and training clothes she was wearing would be just fine after a go in the washing machine.

The two women walked back to the company together, and Alex tried to get a beat on how Emily was feeling.

“That reaction from Victor was over the top, right?” Emily asked after a few steps.

“Yes, he was rather unreasonable.”

“I feel like I might be reading too much into people’s behaviours right now and it makes me question my own judgement.”

“Don’t. Trust your feelings, especially the uneasy ones. More often than not there’s a good reason for them. Watching you these last few days, I wouldn’t have guessed that you feel this unsettled. You very much sell the illusion of business a usual,” Alex tried to get a better grip of Emily’s state of mind.

"The show must go on, right?" Emily sighed. "I'm pretty shaken. The fact that there's a killer out there coming after ballet people is already scary enough, but to think that he might be doing this somehow because of me… I have no clue what to do with that thought, so I try to ignore it for now."

“Understandable. But please don’t ever think the UnSub kills because of you. You are not the reason and bear no responsibility. He alone is responsible for his decisions and actions.”

They reached the door, and before Emily could pull it open, Alex laid her hand over Emily's on the handle.

“You are entitled to a bit of a freak out over all this, even though we greatly appreciate you trying your best to play along. If there’s anything I can do to help you deal, please don’t hesitate to ask.”

Emily stayed quiet and just nodded so Alex let it go and they went inside, Emily heading for the changing rooms to get a clean set of clothes before their next rehearsal with the kids. Alex could tell during that hour and a half that Emily was distracted. She still did excellent work, and she didn't think anybody else would notice, but Alex could see the lack of engagement with the music.

Rehearsal over, she was glad that Emily stayed back.

“I don’t feel entirely safe going out alone right now,” Emily started. “But I could really do with a night of dancing.”

Alex just raised her eyebrow and gestured around the studio with a lopsided smile which made Emily laughed out.

“Yeah, I know. But I mean a night of just losing myself on a dance floor, you know, doll up, go to a club, not think about anything. Would you like to go dancing with me?”

Alex was about to say no and suggest Morgan as a bodyguard for the evening. He’d fit into the scene Emily described much better. But then she caught the glimmer of vulnerable hope in Emily’s eyes and suddenly the answer could be nothing but yes.

“Okay. Shall I pick you up around nine?”

“That would be fantastic, thank you!”

Before she headed home to get changed, Alex fired off a quick text to Hotch.

_I’m accompanying Emily to a club tonight. Take a look at Victor Cowden, he overreacted to someone spilling coffee all over her by accident earlier._

It was only when she hit send that it occurred to her that she had used Emily’s first name,but there was nothing to be done about that now.

 

* * *

 

 

Three and a half hours later, Alex was really regretting her life choices.

The club Emily had chosen was great, with a very mixed crowd and music that had a bit more to offer than just pounding rhythms. And Emily took full advantage of that.

Alex had been prepared to sit somewhere with a good view and let Emily enjoy the evening. But Emily had dragged her out onto the dancefloor as soon as they arrived and that's where they still were. And Emily didn't just want her close, she was clearly dancing with her and ignored all other advances.

The music changed again to something lascivious Alex had never heard before, and she wasn't paying too much attention to the song now either because Emily was dancing with her back pressed against Alex and it was distraction and temptation in the flesh. She decided to give in and give up on the pretence of professionalism she'd been clinging to. She settled her hands on Emily's slender hips and was rewarded by a sultry look over the shoulder.

They kept dancing like this, closer or further apart, depending on the music, falling into the rhythms and movements like they’d been doing it for years. Alex vowed to herself that she’d do something like this more often because she’d missed it without even noticing.

She also forced herself to keep an eye on their surroundings and the other party goers. A number of men and a few women approached them to ask either of them for a dance but they rejected them all, and no one reacted inappropriately.

Eventually, Alex dragged Emily from the dance floor and over to the bar because she desperately needed something to drink. With half of their water bottles gone, she thought she could talk again.

“How do you have that much stamina after a full day of rehearsals?”

“You were out there as well, keeping up with me very nicely,” Emily answered with a cheeky smile.

"I didn't spend my day in pointe shoes, and I'm completely exhausted."

Emily laughed and drank some more of her water. Then her expression changed like she'd come to a decision. Alex was just about to ask what was going on when Emily leaned forward and brought their faces close.

“Tell me no if you don’t want this.”

“I can’t.” Alex was surprised by how desperate she sounded.

“Can’t tell me no or can’t do this? It’s a very important difference.”

“We can’t do this. Not now.” And boy, did she wish it was different.

“Why? Tell me why I can’t have this.” Emily was still so very much in her space that Alex could feel every word against her skin.

“Because you’re involved in a case I’m working. It could cause all kinds of issues later if we become personally involved right now.”

“But later? After this is all over? Am I allowed to kiss you then?”

“Yes, if that’s still what you want.”

Emily backed off with a small smile on her lips that made them look even more delicious. "I can't imagine I won't." She was about to take another sip of water, but a yawn surprised her. "Sorry."

“It’s fine. It’s probably time we get home anyway. Come on.”

The silence in the car wasn't uncomfortable, but Alex could feel the growing tension in Emily the closer they got to their homes. She was considering what would be the right moment to ask when Emily beat her to it.

"I don't really want to be in my house alone right now. I slept like shit the last two nights, and I can't imagine I'll be getting any sleep at all tonight."

“I have a guest room.” The answer had slipped out while Alex was still contemplating if it was a good idea but she wasn’t about to take it back.

“Would that be alright?” How small Emily’s voice sounded in that moment only strengthened Alex’s resolve.

"Yes, of course." She took the turn towards her house and prayed to any god that might listen that she wouldn't come to regret this.

 

* * *

 

 

Alex was just making some coffee the next morning when her cell phone rang.

“Morgan, what’s going on?”

_“Do you know where Prentiss is?”_

“Yes, she’s here. What happened?” She set down the mugs to give Derek her full attention.

_“Why is Prentiss at your place this time of day?”_ he asked sounding suspecting.

"She didn't feel safe at home and wasn't sleeping, so I offered her my guest room. What is going on?" She was losing her patience, and Derek seemed to catch on to that fact.

_"Neighbours called in that her door was open and they didn't get an answer when they called her. The report pinged Garcia's alarms, and I came here to check the situation. The house was definitely broken into though it doesn't look like anything obvious was taken or trashed. But the house has been filled over and over with flowers and pictures of her. I guess that pretty much erases any lingering doubt that our UnSub is obsessed with her."_

Alex had slumped onto a kitchen chair halfway through Morgan’s report.

“Was there anything helpful in the notes?”

_"Not really, only the overall bullying tone that you'd suspected and every single one was about the ominous ‘her' the guy is obsessed with. There wasn't enough that it would point at Prentiss, but all of it does fit her. The tone and choice of words support our profile but don't give us anything concrete."_

“What about Cowden?”

_"Garcia couldn't find anything suspicious in his background so far, but she keeps digging. Rossi and JJ are on their way to his place, ask him about any fans that have written the company repeatedly and stand out, and test the waters about his state of mind. We'll see if something shakes loose."_

“Sounds like it is all we can do right now.” Alex took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Can you let me know when CSU is done with Emily’s house? We’ll come by so she can pack a bag. I think her staying here until this is all resolved will be the best solution.”

_“It’s Emily now, hn.”_ When she didn’t give him a reaction, he uncharacteristically let it go. _“Yeah, I make sure you get a call once the scene is clear. She has to come here at some point anyway to check that truly nothing was stolen. You okay breaking these news to her?”_

“Yes, of course. Let me know if anything new comes up.”

Alex was still staring into space when Emily shuffled into the kitchen in search of coffee. Seeing her in some PJ bottoms and a t-shirt she borrowed from Alex last night, with her hair still messed up and barely awake, in the middle of Alex's home made something deep inside of Alex ache. She hadn't longed for someone to share her space and her life with since her divorce. She'd been more comfortable on her own, the idea of a romantic relationship too tangled up with the grief over her lost son. But in that very moment, Alex wished nothing more than that this was just an ordinary Sunday, that they could make pancakes and laze about, and that it would be the most normal thing in the world.

She shook herself loose from her daydream and resolved to figure out later, where it had come from.

“Morning. Would you like some coffee?”

“Yes, please.” Emily still sounded half asleep.

“Have a seat,” Alex said as she set the mug down and pushed milk and sugar into Emily’s reach. “Did you sleep well?”

“Yes, thank you. Much better than the nights before.” She doctored her coffee and sipped at it carefully, humming in content.

Alex was mostly holding on to her own mug, loath to disrupt the peaceful morning but knowing that it had to be done. She shouldn’t have been surprised that half way through her coffee Emily was awake enough to notice her preoccupation.

“I’m not sure I want to hear it before another one of these,” she lifted up her mug, “but tell me anyway.”

Alex waited until she’d swallowed down the next sip of coffee.

"Morgan called. Your house has been broken into, and we think it was our UnSub."

It took a moment for the news to sink in, and then Emily buried her face in her hands and just took long, forcefully even breaths. Alex let her come to terms with it in her own time before she told her more.

“Okay, what… I don’t even know what exactly I want to ask.” Emily sounded insecure which was very much unlike her and Alex wanted to offer her reassurance that wasn’t really there to give.

"It doesn't look like anything was stolen or damaged, but you'll have to go through everything at some point to confirm that. The way Morgan described it, he basically made a shrine. The house is filled with flowers and pictures of you."

Emily just shook her head. "I don't even know what to do with that. I'm trying to imagine it, but it just doesn't seem real. I'm stuck on the fact that some stranger, who has killed people, was in my home. Or even worse, he might turn out not to be a stranger and - oh my god!" She groaned and dropped her head down onto the tabletop between her arms.

“What’s your favourite breakfast?”

“What?” Emily looked up in total confusions at Alex’s deliberate non-sequitur. “I don’t think I could eat right now.”

“Come on, what’s your favourite ever. The thing you only indulge in every so often for very special occasions?”

“French toast with strawberries and maple syrup,” Emily offered still frowning at her.

“Lucky you, as I have everything we need for that.” Alex got up. “Do you want more coffee?”

When Emily just pushed her mug over, Alex gamely refilled it and then puttered around the kitchen, whipping up the French toast and slicing strawberries. She wanted to give Emily a few moments to herself to regain some balance and hoped that the normalcy of cooking would help to calm her.

By the time Alex set the plates full of golden French toast triangles on the table, she could hear Emily's stomach grumble, and it made both women laugh.

Emily savoured her first bite with closed eyes.

“This is delicious! What’s your secret?”

“I add vanilla sugar to the egg mix, that’s all.”

“Hmmm.”

The rest of breakfast was spent in companionable silence, and it wasn't until they were cleaning up the dishes that Emily addressed her home again.

“What’s going to happen next? Do we just drive over there or is there anything I need to do?”

"We wait for the call that CSU is done, we'd only be in the way while they're still working. Agent Morgan will meet us there and walk us through everything, see if you notice anything being disturbed that an outsider wouldn't see as such. And lastly, you can pack a bag, get anything you'll need over the next few days as long as it isn't directly needed as evidence in some way."

“So, I guess I’ll need to find a hotel or something.”

“We’d actually prefer if you would just stay here for a few days. We can make other arrangements if you’re not comfortable with this but after he invaded your home in such a manner, we want you under protection.”

“That’s actually a relief.” The tension in Emily’s shoulders lessened visibly. “And you don’t mind? I mean, this is a bit extreme as far as bringing your work home goes,” she tried to joke.

"I don't mind at all, and I believe we've already established that you are a little bit more than just work to me."

They left it at that and got ready for the day ahead. Thankfully it didn’t take too long afterwards for the call to come so Emily didn’t have time to get psyched up.

 

* * *

 

 

Walking into the house was a shock that Alex knew nothing could have prepared Emily for. Morgan hadn’t been kidding when he said that there were flowers everywhere. All the surfaces held vases full of them, it looked more like a disorganised flower shop than a home.

More disturbing were the pictures of Emily taped all over the walls and furniture. Everything from professional shoots the company had commissioned to candid shots taken at the company or out in public.

“Here, this is the only message we found.” Derek handed Emily a printed card in an evidence bag.

“ _Nobody appreciates you like I do._ I’d rather he’d bloody respect me than whatever this madness is supposed to be,” Emily scuffed. “Oh god, I can’t even think about what would have happened if I’d been home.”

“Probably nothing, to be honest,” Morgan said. “This was designed to be a display, something you were supposed to find as he set it up for you. He likely waited for a chance to do this when he knew you weren’t home. Our profile of him says that he has no intention of hurting you. The problem with obsessive stalkers like him becomes that their control snaps easily and then they become completely unpredictable.”

Emily just nodded numbly and walked further into her home, taking everything in.

“How did Rossi and JJ’s chat with Cowden go?” Alex wanted to know.

"Not at all. He wasn't home and his phone pings in his apartment so he doesn't have that with him. We talked to Stevenson, and he mentioned that Cowden likes to go out of town to a friend's cabin that doesn't have cell phone reception anyway. We'll try again later or hope he shows up to work tomorrow."

Morgan then walked Emily through every room, checking for anything they might have missed without disturbing potential evidence but everything was as it should be. Whoever their UnSub was, he hadn't even taken a snoop through her underwear drawer, and Alex fully understood what a relief that was.

Emily packed up a suitcase with clothes and toiletries for a week, and they left the house again. Alex had the sure feeling that Emily was nearing her limit.

“I understand how rattling this must be for you, but I’m confident that we will catch this UnSub and then you can return to your normal life,” Morgan tried to offer some reassurance.

“Thanks, I just… this is the kind of thing that only ever happens to others or on the telly.”

Alex gave Morgan a nod and followed Emily to the car.

 

* * *

 

 

Back at her place, Alex made them tea and put some music on in the background, waiting for Emily to give her a cue what she needed.

"How did you end up doing this job?" Emily finally asked. "I mean, we started out on the same path, and I can't imagine dealing with stuff like this on a daily basis. How did you end up at the FBI?"

Alex snorted. “It wasn’t what I set out to do, not even when I had to give up ballet. It’s just the path that presented itself.”

“Why did give up ballet in the first place? I know you couldn’t be on stage due to your injury, but why walk away entirely? There are so many other jobs in the ballet world that you could have chosen.”

“It hurt too much.” Alex wasn’t sure if she wanted to say more but thought she probably should.

“I’m sorry if my questions are too personal. You don’t have to tell me, obviously.”

“No, it’s fine. I rarely talk about it because I don’t think most people will understand but it’s different with you. Or maybe I’m just in a different frame of mind right now. After I got injured, I had a year of healing and treatments, of hoping for the best and ignoring that the worst was looming. I did all the things they expect you to do, spend time at the company, sit in on rehearsals, go to physio, keep as fit as you can… the whole shebang. But there’s only so much choreography you can watch until you have to do it to get it, and I felt like I needed something to really occupy me. Something that would give me a sense of accomplishment because I was growing increasingly frustrated.

"So I enrolled in college part-time, and because I always liked languages and had a knack for them, I chose some linguistic classes. It was interesting and challenging and took my mind off of ballet at least for a bit. I got excellent grades which I hadn't expected given the circumstances. But I missed dancing like a fish misses the water, and I desperately wanted to get back on stage.

“And then they told me that it had healed as much as it would and while it was good for all normal uses, it would not hold up to professional dancing. The doctor’s prognosis was that if I tried, I’d probably be back in hospital within a year and there was a high risk I’d have crippled myself for life.

"I was completely heartbroken and the idea to do something tangential to the love I was losing or switching to a different style of dance to avoid the pointe work felt like I'd be torturing myself for years to come. So I threw myself into linguistics, moved away from home, changed colleges, just started over entirely. I soon drifted towards forensic linguistics which brought me to the attention of the FBI, and they recruited me straight out of college. It sounded like I'd be doing something meaningful and that had appeal. I have the cop gene run deeply in my family so that might be part of it. The BAU became a goal I was working very hard to reach and as weird as that sounds, I do enjoy the work in an abstract kind of way. It's very rewarding, for all its gruesomeness."

Emily just looked at her over the rim of her mug for a minute before she answered.

“I think I do understand you, at least the level of emotional involvement you had and why losing the chance to dance professionally hurt so much. I’d feel the same though I more likely would dig my feet in and cling to ballet in any way, shape or form I could. Hell, that’s exactly what I did when I was about to lose it.”

That made Alex frown because when she’d read up on Emily’s career, she’d envied her the total lack of any major injury.

"It was before my career even remotely started," Emily explained. "I had started your typical kids' ballet class when we still lived in the states and then my mother got sent to Ukraine for her next posting. She signed me up at the dance studio of a former St. Petersburg dancer. She was amazing, strict but kind, and so very good. She recognised my talent and personally made sure I had the most solid foundation I could possibly have.

"Then mother was transferred to the Middle East, and there wasn't even an English school for me to go to. They would have hired me tutors, and I'd been essentially confined to the embassy grounds. There was a snowball's chance in hell that I could have continued ballet classes in those circumstances."

“How old were you?”

“Eleven.”

“That’s when you started at the Royal Ballet School, isn’t it?”

"Yeah. I wanted to dance, that was pretty much all I wanted, and I'd grown up seeing my mother relentlessly pushing for what she wanted out of her career, so I figured, why shouldn't I do the same? I put together my application, my teacher borrowed a video camera to film me and wrote me a recommendation letter. The thing that was tricky was getting my mother's signature, so I forged it."

“You did what?!” Alex got out between choking on her tea.

At least it made Emily laugh.

"The embassy had one of these machines that perfectly copies a signature for all the boring letters that have to be sent out. One of the secretaries had shown me how it worked one day, so I used it to put my mother's signature on my application."

“I can’t imagine she was pleased.”

"Furious, actually. We had a bit of a screaming match, but I must have yelled some things at her that made her think and so the next day we sat down and talked about why I'd done it. I still got punished, but she also gave me her permission. I think that was the day she started to understand how serious I actually was about ballet. She came with me to the final audition in London, and I got accepted."

“Misuse of embassy equipment leads to world career in ballet - now that’s a title story for Pointe Magazine.”

They both laughed heartily at that, and it was the much-needed stress release especially Emily needed.

“I’d love to see you dance,” she said once she’d calmed down.

“I’m no longer a dancer.”

"Bullshit." The explicit startled Alex even though it was said softly. "A dancer is something you are not something you do. It never lets you go. And I've seen you with the kids, the way you show them movements they struggle with. If you really hadn't danced in over twenty years, those movements wouldn't come to you so easily anymore. You're holding yourself back with us pros, and I understand why. But I'd really love to see you dance." She got up and started to push the armchair she'd been sitting in aside.

“What are you doing?”

“Making room for you to show me what you’ve got.”

"Stop that, leave the chair where it belongs," Alex said with a laugh as she got up and took Emily's hand to pull her away from the furniture. She hesitated because it had been so long since she'd shared this with anyone. Too long. "Come with me."

She led Emily all the way upstairs to the converted attic space. She switched on the lights and stood aside.

Emily walked into the studio space her eyes huge with surprise. Alex watched her turn on her axis and then run her hand over the barre along the wall of mirrors almost tenderly. It was something she’d seen many dancers do, including herself.

“Wow.” Emily’s gaze came back to rest on her. “I don’t know what I expected, but this wasn’t it. This is amazing!”

Alex smiled at her. “Welcome to my refuge. You’re the only guest I’ve ever allowed up here.”

“I’m honoured. Will you show me?”

“Let’s get changed. I’m not letting you play just the audience.”

Sitting down on the floor to put on pointe shoes with somebody else right beside her felt weird. It wasn’t as if Alex didn’t do this as often as she could but she hadn’t shared the experience with anyone since she stopped dancing professionally and the flicker of the camaraderie she’d once known made her melancholic. The prospect of sharing her dancing again after all these years was equal parts scary and exhilarating.

Alex put on some music, and they did a standard barre routine as a warm-up, mirroring each other. Emily followed Alex's lead when Alex had been more than prepared to do it the other way around.

“So, what would you like to see?”

“Anything. Whatever you like dancing the most or working on right now.”

Alex had the feeling that there was something Emily wasn’t saying and she even had a pretty good idea what that was, so she set it aside and found the audio file she wanted instead.

She was hyper-aware of Emily sitting in front of the mirror and watching her, but astonishingly, it only took her a few steps to feel comfortable with it and so she just let the music carry her through the movements, relying on decades of practising her technique. She may not be quite as sharp or quick on her feet anymore, but ballet was about more than how high you could get your leg. She knew she had a reputation around the bureau for being very restrained, she'd even heard someone call her a female Hotch after she'd chastised them for not handling files properly. But ballet had always been her way to really let go and express all her emotions, and it had been that intensity that had made her stand out among other young dancers, and she didn't think she'd had lost any of that.

When the music ended, and she made the last step of the variation, she felt more herself than in a very long time.

Emily applauded enthusiastically. “That was beautiful! You’re still breathtaking, you know that?”

“I got rusty,” Alex waved her off. “I can’t practise enough to be as good as I used to. This is just for me now.”

“Don’t tell me that has curbed your perfectionism. And trust me, you’d still draw everybody’s eye if you went on stage. That kind of presence can’t be taught or lost.”

Alex cleared her throat uncomfortably. “Your turn.”

They spent most of the afternoon taking turns, playing around with elements and absurd choices of music. Alex couldn’t remember when she’d last laughed this much and was glad to see Emily relaxing and forgetting the horror of the morning at least for a while.

"Okay, I got one more thing to show you, and then I need some dinner, this is making me hungry," Alex eventually wound things down. She set up the audio track she wanted and got into position.

Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed with satisfaction how Emily's mouth dropped open when she recognised the Black Swan Solo after a few notes.

Alex poured everything she had left into this private performance and was rewarded with Emily's rapt attention. She was about to start applauding at the end when the music switched directly over to the end of the pas des deux, leaving Alex only a few moments to prepare for the fouettés. This was probably showing off, but she didn't care. She'd worked relentlessly to master them on her non-dominant leg as the part had been too dangerous on her injured foot. The day she mastered it, she'd felt like she'd regained a part of herself that the injury had taken away. She didn't count, she knew from the beginning she wouldn't make it to 32 today, she was already too exhausted, but that didn't matter.

She just about managed to bring the last turn to a proper finish before she found herself in Emily’s arm and lifted off of the ground.

“Oh my God! You’re incredible! I can’t even imagine how much work that must have cost you. Thank you! Thank you for letting me see that!”

“No, thank you,” Emily got out still out of breath. “I haven’t enjoyed dancing this much for ages.”

 

 

They’d settled in on the couches in the living room with some mindless TV and a glass of wine each.

“So, I understand why we can’t explore this attraction between us right now. But will you really give us a chance once the case is over or will you just vanish out of my life again?” Emily asked during a commercials break, studiously staring into her wine rather than look at Alex.

She sighed. “I’m very attracted to you, in every way possible. But this whole situation has also thrown my emotions into disarray so I can’t really say how I’ll feel when things get back to normal again. I can’t imagine not being attracted to you though. Would you want to explore this between us under normal circumstances?”

"Yes! Of course, I would." Emily's gaze snapped up to Alex. "Why wouldn't I? You are a beautiful woman and pretty much everything I could wish for."

“I’m also quite a bit older and travel for work a lot.”

“Nine years isn’t that much and do I really have to tell you the craziness of a ballet schedule?”

“No, I guess not.”

“What is this really about? I thought we were on the same page last night.”

“We were. But ballet, losing it and now being thrust back into it, has always made me emotionally raw. I’m not sure if I’m falling for you or the fact that you’re making me love dancing again in a way that I haven’t in a long time. I don’t want to hurt you.”

“I’m a big girl, I can manage. And I’d much rather give us a chance and have it potentially fail than live with what-ifs the rest of my life.”

“Let’s make sure the UnSub is taken care of first and then see how the personal side goes.” Alex was glad that Emily accepted that for now. She couldn’t deal with their potential romance right now and keep her head in the game where the case was concerned.

 

* * *

 

 

The first thing amiss Alex noticed when she came into the company the next morning was the lack of schedules on the pinboard. She went in search of Ralph and found him at his admin's desk, helping one of the girls normally working the reception to print out the correct sections of the current calendar.

"Yes, exactly these. Just print one copy and put them on the board sorted by date. Thanks, Justine. Come on in, Alex," he gestured her into his office and closed the door behind them. "Victor has called in sick, I had a message on the answering machine when I got in this morning. I know your colleagues wanted to talk to him about something, so I already called Agent Hotchner, and he said they were looking into it. Is there anything I need to know?"

"No, we have nothing concrete yet. Just a bunch of puzzle pieces that don't quite go together yet." It wasn't technically a lie, though the circumstantial evidence was thickening. But Alex couldn't tell Ralph that. "I'll find an opportunity to call Hotch later, and if there is any news to share, I' be sure to tell you."

She had planned to find a quiet corner for that phone call during her lunch break, but she didn't get a chance. She was just grabbing her notes to go into another rehearsal with both swans when her phone vibrated with a text from Hotch.

_We’ve got a new body, same MO. Personal connection unclear. We’ll come to the company during the afternoon._

Alex closed her eyes for a moment, wondering how Emily would take this development. It didn't need saying that she couldn't mention anything before the team arrived, so she put her game face on and pretended like there was nothing out of the ordinary.

Emily joined her for lunch and threw her a questioning look but didn’t say anything when Alex just shook her head ever so slightly. She didn’t have to pretend much longer as they were just walking out of the cafeteria when they almost collided with Ralph.

“Oh, there you are! The FBI agents are here and have a few more questions for you Emily. Would you join us?” He gestured down the hallway, tension radiating off of him.

Thankfully, Alex didn't have to come up with a pretence to come along because Emily grabbed her hand and didn't let go until they had entered the office. Alex could tell that Hotch had noticed and Morgan was outright grinning at her for a short moment, before turning professional again. She was pretty sure JJ would have raised an eyebrow at her if she hadn't been perusing a file at that moment.

“Miss Prentiss, please have a seat,” Hotch greeted her and didn’t protest when Alex took the seat beside her at the small conference table Ralph had in front of the window.

“Did you find him?” It didn’t sound like Emily was putting all that much hope into those words.

“Unfortunately not. I’m sorry to say that instead, another victim was found dead, killed in the same manner. We are, however, unsure if there is any connection between you and this latest victim. Do you know a Ken Hayward?”

“I - do you have a picture of him? I superficially know a Ken but don’t know his last name,” Emily said.

Hotch put a picture on the table, and she pulled it closer. Alex was glad that Garcia had already provided photos of the young man while he was still alive and Emily didn't have to look at a close up of his dead face.

"Yes." Emily's voice broke, and she cleared her throat. "Yes, I know him. Four days a week he works the coffee cart that stops on this block every afternoon. It's his student job while he gets his degree in chemistry. He's a nice kid and just easy to chat with. I guess that's why his tip jar is always a bit fuller than that of his colleagues." She hesitated before continuing, and Alex could guess why. "On Saturday, he spilt my coffee all over me because a bike courier raced over the pavement like a madman and clipped his shoulder. Not his fault at all but… Victor was there, and he got furious at the kid."

“Victor? What- Why would you point out Victor in this context?” Ralph sounded completely baffled.

Morgan answered him, taking the focus away from Emily. "Because we were already looking into him after Alex informed us about the incident on Saturday. As you know, he was unreachable yesterday, and today he called in sick but still isn't home and doesn't carry his cell phone with him. We have nothing concrete but would like a few words with him."

"What he isn't saying that the night after Victor goes off in an absurd defence of my honour, my house was broken into and turned into some sort of shrine."

“Oh my god, Emily, that’s horrible. Are you alright?” Ralph turned back towards her.

“I’m managing, I guess. I’m staying at Alex’s place for the moment, that helps.”

The team only had a few more questions for Emily. Confirming that there was a connection and they didn't have a reason to completely rethink their profile was the most important part, and now they needed to find Cowden to either confirm their suspicion or clear him. Alex's gut said the latter was unlikely, but a gut feeling had never gotten anyone a conviction.

When Hotch ended the conversation, Emily turned to Ralph.

"I'd like to leave for today. This is all getting a bit much, and I don't think I can get my mind to focus on ballet right now."

"Yes, of course! Look after yourself and call if there's anything I can do. I'll make sure your understudy makes the most of her rehearsal time." He tried to put some humour into the statement, but it fell flat.

"That means I'll be leaving for the day as well. At this point, Emily needs 24/7 protection, and with her staying at my place, I'm the most convenient and subtle option," Alex said and got up with Emily.

“Agreed,” came from Hotch. “I’ll have unmarked cars patrolling your neighbourhood, just to be safe. Morgan has a small, in-ear radio from Garcia for you. She or Anderson will listen at all times and can call directly through to the LEOs.”

She accepted the tech from Morgan and slipped it into her bag to put in later in her car. Everything in the company was too close quarters for others not to notice the wire with her hair up as it was.

Her hand already on the door handle, Emily turned back to the group at the table.

“Answer me one question if you can, Agent Hotchner. When did he do this? When did he kill Ken?”

“Mr Hayward died in the early morning hours on Sunday. We have yet to narrow down the time when he was abducted.”

Emily nodded slowly.

"So he went from turning my house into some flower box declaration of love to killing an innocent kid over spilt coffee in no more than a few hours maximum. I have no idea what to do with that."

“I’m sure Alex can help you work through this even better,” JJ said. “But if I may offer some advice, don’t try to make sense of this. What it boils down to is that one way or the other, these are the actions of a sick mind. And even we, who make a living out of figuring out what makes people like this tick, don’t ever fully understand how they can do this. Take it as a good sign that your emotional landscape is too healthy to fully grasp a twisted logic like this.”

Emily nodded her thanks and Alex followed her out of the office. They bundled up in their coats before leaving the company mostly unnoticed. Emily didn’t say a thing until they reached Alex’s car in the lot across the street. There, she turned into Alex and buried her face at her shoulder.

“How is that happening? How can any of this even be real? It’s so crazy!”

Alex wrapped her arms around her and held her tight. “I know. Let’s go home and try to get some distance to all of this. My team is very good at finding people who don’t want to be found. It might all be over tomorrow morning.”

 

* * *

 

 

They ended up spending a very subdued afternoon and evening with Emily mostly poking at dinner and constantly glancing in the direction of Alex’s weapon that she’d clipped to her side, hidden under her sweater.

Alex wasn’t sure if that was more about wanting the reassurance that they weren’t helpless sitting ducks or if it disturbed Emily and brought home the reality of Alex’s actual job. She didn’t like to think about the second option too much. Emily wouldn’t be the first person unable to deal with a romantic partner in law enforcement and even though she’d known Alex to be an agent all along, the undercover setup at created an illusion of the two of them living in the same world. And that illusion was now being shattered.

Only time could tell how it played out.

They went to bed early, but Alex lay awake for a long while, listening to Emily turning back and forth in the other room. Only after she was certain that Emily had fallen asleep did Alex allow herself to doze off, knowing that the radio on her bedside table was turned up to maximum reception and Garcia or Anderson was monitoring both the audio feed and her house security.

She jerked awake to the beeping of her security system directly followed by her phone vibrating on the bedside table. A floorboard downstairs creaked, and she accepted Garcia's call but only tapped the mic three times as acknowledgement and a sign that she had to keep quiet. With the other hand, she pulled her gun out from under her pillow and clicked off the safety.

Checking if the hallway was still clear, she quickly made her way into the guest room and woke up Emily but kept her quiet. It took her a moment to wake up enough to understand what was going on but then the steps on the stairs registered and panic crept into her eyes.

Alex gestured for her to hide behind the bed, but before Emily could fully disentangle herself from the sheets, Cowden stood in the door frame already, a gun loosely in the hand at his side.

“There now, isn’t that sweet,” he mocked.

“What do you want, Victor?” Alex hoped that she could get him talking long enough for reinforcements to arrive.

"Isn't that obvious? I want to stop you all from interfering with perfection. None of you appreciate Emily for how brilliant and perfect she really is. You don't deserve her, and you don't deserve to distract her from her art. I'm the only one who recognises her true genius which is why she belongs to me."

"I don't belong to anyone, Victor," Emily challenged him, and Alex wasn't sure if that was a good move, but there was also little she could do about it at that moment. "And I'm much more than my art. I'm a person, with all the imperfections and dreams that come with that. What gives you any right to make decisions for me?"

Alex squeezed Emily’s hand in warning not to anger him unnecessarily and mentally slapped herself up the head for having allowed Emily her silence during the evening rather than coaching her on how to behave if a situation such as this should arise. She just hadn’t thought this likely enough to force it.

“You have a duty to the stage!” Cowden yelled. “A gift like yours belongs to those capable of appreciating it. It is your duty to hone your art to perfection and the honour of others to support you in that.”

“Is that what you’ve been doing?” Alex asked to draw his attention her way, as she gave Emily’s hand another warning squeeze. “Supporting her art? How is the disruption of her work environment you created supportive? How does that work?”

“There were elements distracting her from her art, endangering her fitness and well-being. They needed to be eliminated.”

She could feel Emily shudder under her hand at the coldness of Cowden’s tone. It was a harsh thing to be confronted with.

"And now there's you," he continued unfazed. "You're supposed to help her interpret her parts, find the perfect way to perform them. Instead, you're dragging her out to dance clubs and flirt with her, and I don't even want to think about what else you are getting up to that will take her energy and focus away from the only thing that really counts. And we can't have that, now, can we."

In the blink of an eye, he raised his gun and pointed at her. Emily screamed in shock, but Alex had been entirely prepared. Her gun was up, and three shots in quick succession had Cowden crumbling to the ground. She cleared his weapon as the flicker of blue and red lights reflected through the hallway, and she could hear police officers entering the house.

In the flurry of activity that followed, she didn't get the chance to exchange more than a few looks with Emily, who JJ and Reid took care off while Rossi took her first account of events. EMTs arrived only to confirm Cowden's death and take him away to the morgue. With the whole conversation of his last few minutes on tape through Alex's phone and an eyewitness confirming that he raised his weapon at Alex, there was no doubt about the legitimacy of her actions. Procedures had to be followed anyway.

 

* * *

 

 

She’d grabbed a go bag and let her team take her to the office for everything to be written up properly. Afterwards, she’d been informed that she would be staying at Rossi’s until her house had been set to rights again, and as all she’d wanted at that point was a bed, she hadn’t fought them on it.

Reid had come into the conference room at some point, explaining that they had settled Emily into a nice hotel room with JJ to keep her company and that she would likely be able to return to her own house the next day, so Alex hadn’t been too worried about her.

It was only when she had returned to her home and found all of Emily's things already gone that she'd started to worry. It had been too late to call, so she'd resolved to do it the next day, but the team had been called out to a case in the early hours of the morning, and so things got set aside.

Even ten days later, when they returned from that investigation, there were still no messages from Emily, just an email from Ralph, telling her how much both Emily and Sandra valued the experience of working with her, and that they regretted that it had already come to an end. Also, the Nutcracker kids missed their Miss Miller.

She figured that was her answer as to whether or not Emily could deal with the reality of her job.

Alex sat in her studio trying to accept that apparently, this latest dream of happiness wasn't meant to last either. She'd put on one of her ballet playlists in random order, and it wasn't until she noticed that The Dying Swan was playing and tears were running down her cheeks that she forced herself to get up and move on.

They'd only had a few days, and nothing had happened really.

How she regretted not allowing that kiss.

 

* * *

 

 

When the invitation arrived a week later for her to attend the premiere ofLake Of Swans, she put it on her side table and tried to make up her mind. Three times she just wanted to throw it away and then couldn't bring it over herself.

The prospect of seeing Emily on stage was tempting and daunting at the same time.

It was Saturday evening and already dark when she finally gave herself a kick and put on a nice dress and pinned up her hair. She could always sneak away between the performance and the party afterwards.

The production was breathtakingly beautiful and broke her heart.

Ralph had outdone himself with the changes to the storyline and the finale of Odile willingly sacrificing herself so her sister could live on with her true love and break the curse over all the swans left no dry eye in the audience. Emily was amazing in that last scene, and Alex was sure it would resonate with the audience much longer than the technically impressive parts in Act 2. Sandra had grown leaps and bounds from her earlier focus on technique, and Odette's grief over her sister's death filled the theatre as the last notes faded.

Alex couldn't help but be a little proud of the part she'd played in helping the two women along the way. She wholeheartedly joined in on the standing ovations the audience gave the company after they'd caught their collective breaths.

The slipping away part of her plan didn’t go so well. Ralph had apparently been waiting for her hidden behind a barely opened side door as he suddenly pulled her out of the throng of people heading for either the bar or the exit.

“Hey! It’s dangerous to manhandle and startle a federal agent.”

“It’s a risk I’m willing to take as I was made to swear on my life to try anything in my power to ensure you showed up at the party. Don’t leave me hanging, Miller, for old times’ sake.”

She made an unimpressed face but took the arm he offered her anyway.

“You look especially lovely tonight, have I mentioned that.”

“Don’t think flattery will distract me, Stevenson. You’ll pay for this one way or another. I haven’t decided yet.”

“Awww, give the night a chance, love. You can never know what it might have in store for you.”

She strongly suspected a whole different kind of heartbreak to the one the performance had caused, but she kept that to herself. At least she'd taken a taxi so she could indulge in the very nice champagne being handed out.

The dancers arrived to the well-deserved celebration, and Alex stayed away from the eager handshakes of company patrons. She couldn't help but keep an eye on Emily practically all the time, even when other guests tried to engage her in conversation, or in one case, chat her up.

Emily fulfilled this part of her job with the same grace as the one on stage, making small talk, smiling, and accepting compliments from all the right people. It was easy enough to keep track of where she was and make sure that there was a safe distance between them.

Until suddenly, Emily stood right in front of her.

“Hey there. I’m glad you came.”

“I wasn’t sure I’d be able to make it. I’m glad I did. You were wonderful.”

“Thanks. In no small part thanks to you.”

“I didn’t do that much. You are just brilliant.”

“You didn’t call.”

“You didn’t either.”

“I had a premiere to prepare for.”

“I had killers to catch.”

“So… where does that leave us?”

Alex didn't want to read the vulnerability and hope in that question, it awoke too much hope in her, and she was too afraid to be wrong.

“Where would you like it to leave us?” she asked back.

“I don’t know exactly, we’ve barely started to get to know each other properly. But in some way together would be nice.”

Alex felt elation growing from deep inside of her, and the matching smile spread over her face.

“Just nice?”

“More like bloody fucking fantastic but that doesn’t seem to be the choice of words for this venue.”

“I think it’s a perfect choice of words.”

“Who am I to argue with a Doctor of Linguistics. I believe you owe me a kiss.”

“I believe you would be right about that.”

Seemed the partygoers that night found a lot worth applauding. Alex would have joined, but she had much better things to do.

 

THE END

**Author's Note:**

> If you have no idea what fouettés are, I highly recommend taking a look at that scene here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XfmSv0z205s  
> It's impressive even if you have no clue about ballet. Marianela Nuñez turning and turning and turning in front of the staircase is what I'm talking about, though the whole clip is absolutely worth it.


End file.
